


Kaiju, Former Captains, Sardine Crisps, and Tea

by junko



Series: Written in the Scars (of Our Hearts) [27]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji is invited over to the Kurosaki house for movie night and is surprised by who answers the door.  Back in the Soul Society, Byakuya wishes for quiet, and gets anything but....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kaiju, Former Captains, Sardine Crisps, and Tea

Renji went to high school just to pass the time, but he skipped out when he heard a rumor about a big history test. History was possibly his worst subject. Renji hadn’t attended class all last week, and anyway, it confused him when half of it seemed like the future. He managed to meet up with Chad at the gang’s favorite noodle shop, and they spent the rest of the day training. 

Unfortunately, Renji ended up tumbling through the training grounds ass-over-tea-kettle when a bizarre sight distracted him. He’d been rearing back for a big hit with Hiho Zabimaru when, out of the corner of his eye, Renji caught sight of Tessai dragging his gigai off over his shoulder. ‘What the hell is he doing with my body?’ was the last thought Renji had before Chad landed one of his ‘El Directo’s right in Renji’s solar plexus.

Zabimaru roared angrily, but swung back to soften Renji’s landing.

If you could call spiky spine bones softer…

Of course, that would have to be just the moment Ichigo showed up to ‘say hi.’ Ichigo stood over Renji and offered a hand up, “Cool new move. What’ca gonna call it? ‘Bone-Rattling Crash’?”

“Shut up, asshole.” Renji said, though he did take the hand offered as Zabimaru retracted into sealed state.

Chad came over and gave his ‘you okay?’ look.

Renji dusted himself off like his chest didn’t feel stoved in. “I’m fine,” he said. “Stop fussing over me, you ninnies. It’s not like I’ve never taken a fall before.”

Ichigo nodded absently. He was looking around, as if hoping Rukia were there, even though he knew she’d gone off to the Soul Society. Either Ichigo hadn’t bothered with school either, or he’d already changed. He wore jeans and one of his annoying ‘fifteen’ t-shirts. He carried a large shopping bag. “So, either of you two losers want to come over for movie night?”

“Band,” Chad said disappointedly.

“Right, say ‘hi’ to the guys for me,” Ichigo said, doing one of those complicated man-shakes that he and Chad did. As Chad walked away with a wave over his shoulder, Ichigo turned to Renji. “So? How about you?”

Renji’d watched this exchange curiously. Ichigo almost never came looking for company. “What’s on tap?”

“Kaiju,” Ichigo said. Lifting the bag, he added, “And iwashi senbei.”

It took Renji a second to figure out that one was the movie and the other a snack. “Sardine rice crackers?” Eyeing the bags, Renji nodded, “Sounds awesome. I’m in.”

“Cool. See you at mine in an hour.”

#

Renji was always suspicious of a smiling Urahara bearing bodies. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

Urahara let the gigai sink onto Renji’s bedroll. “They need replacing every so often. You were in yours a long time.” Then, he coughed and muttered something that sounded like, “Plus Zabimaru is getting bigger.”

Stepping into the legs of the gigai, Renji paused, “Wait, what?”

The ubiquitous fan flashed up and fluttered. Then there was an almost girlish giggle and the tip of the fan tapped Renji’s chest and trailed downward slowly. “It’s all this training! I need to make sure all those brand new muscles are represented properly now don’t I?”

The flirting did its work. Renji was utterly distracted. Especially, since Urahara always wore his shirt so… open, and the sight of Urahara’s pale chest reminded Renji far too much of Byakuya, who he’d been missing something fierce all day. Renji was completely flustered, especially since, inside, Zabimaru was preening happily at the compliment. All of it was making Renji's head spin.

“Uh…” Renji pulled the rest of the new gigai on, and shook himself out. “Well, thanks. It fits good.” Though, for some reason, Urahara had left Renji’s hair unbound. Did everyone like it better like that? Renji pulled it out of his face irritably.

“Yes, I see it does. Rather nicely.” The fan, which had returned to hide Urahara’s face, came down just enough for Urahara to peer at Renji as though inspecting the fit. Even though the gigai was fully dressed, Renji felt thoroughly examined. After a very intense moment, Urahara pulled back. He broke the mood with a cheery wave as he headed to the door. “I hear it’s family movie night at the Kurosaki household. Have fun.”

“Did you say ‘family’?”

But, Urahara was already out the door.

#

Renji had never actually been in the front door of the Kurosaki house. He’d climbed in Ichigo’s window several times and even crawled around in the rafters once. He felt kind of strange standing on the stoop ringing the bell. 

The windows of the adjoining clinic were shuttered and the lights were off, despite the 24 hour emergency service sign displayed. Something about the well-tended flowerboxes in the middle of this otherwise rough-edged neighborhood reminded Renji of the shrine monks and the charity healing services they offered in Inuzuri. Unlike those monks, however, this place was permanent, always there when you needed it.

Ichigo’s dad must be a real stand-up guy.

The door flung open and a beefy, scruffy-looking bear of a man wearing a bright Hawaiian-print shirt bellowed a happy, “Welcome, Friend of Ichigo’s… Who Has Far Too Many Tattoos on His Face!”

“Uh…” Renji thrust out the gift he’d brought and bowed his head, “Kurosaki-sensei!”

“Oh! Nobody calls me ‘doctor’ at home!” Over his shoulder the big man shouted, “Especially not my disrespectful teenaged-son!” Then, Ichigo’s father sounded seriously concerned. “Is this guy really your friend, Ichigo? He looks about right, but I think he’s too polite!”

“Fuck you, Dad,” Ichigo’s voice came from the other room. “Mizuiro always insists on calling you ‘sensei’ for some reason, too.”

“Ah, yes! It’s only my annoying offspring who have nothing decent to say to their dear old dad,” Ichigo’s dad agreed happily. Finally taking the present from Renji, he broadly gestured, “Come in! Come in!”

Renji slipped off his shoes in the front entry way. He could feel Ichigo’s dad watching him curiously.

Just as he was coming back up from straightening his shoes, a gentle hand fell on Renji’s shoulder. Ichigo’s dad gave Renji a very concerned look, his eyes focused on the tattoo on Renji’s neck. Quietly, he asked, “Were you in prison, son?”

“No, the Eleventh, sir,” Renji said without thinking.

Ichigo’s dad made a funny sound deep in his throat and his eyes widened, almost as though in recognition. Then, he blurted awkwardly, “Uh, right, well, is that the time? I have snacks to prepare! It was nice meeting you… uh? What was your name?”

“Abarai. Renji Abarai,” Renji said, managing to stop there and not list his rank and division.

“Isshin Kurosaki,” Ichigo’s dad said.

Isshin? Like Isshin Shiba, former Captain of the Tenth Division?

Isshin slapped Renji’s shoulder playfully, “But you can call me Ichigo’s dad or Man of the House or His Royal Awesome Sauce.”

“Dad!” Ichigo said, sticking his head around the corner. “Could you, for five minutes, stop being a moron?”

Isshin laughed heartily, and tried to tousle Ichigo’s hair as he passed, though Ichigo dodged the affection deftly. Neither of them seemed to notice that they both moved at near shunpō speeds.

Oh, for crying out loud… no wonder everyone saw Kaien in that miserable face of Ichigo’s…..

It was there.

Was Renji the last guy to know? Byakuya had seen it right away, hadn’t he? That first night, he and Rukia had even talked about it! Man, Renji felt like a first class fool.

Well, that kind of explained a lot. It’d been annoying as fuck to get his ass handed to him by some upstart human kid with ridiculously-colored hair. Apparently, said kid was half-shinigami and one of those True First types, no less. Almost made Renji feel better about losing. Maybe if he just left those damn True First families alone, he might win once and awhile….

Renji was surprised to see a blond girl peering at him from around Ichigo’s back. A sister? She noticed him looking at her and disappeared with a squeak. Ichigo glanced into the room behind him. “Oh,” Ichigo said, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “I guess you’ve never met my family.” He stepped aside and gestured into the living room. Pointing first at a sullen dark-haired girl dressed in a soccer uniform, he said, “This is Karin,” and then to the blond in a frilly skirt, who now waved shyly at Renji, “and Yuzu.”

For the love of all that was holy, was the entire family was named after fruits? 

Renji said hello to all of them as Ichigo introduced him as, “My friend Renji.”

As he made his way into the room where the girls had the bags of iwashi senbei already opened, Renji noticed there was one person Ichigo had neglected to introduce. A giant sparkly memorial poster on the wall showed a young woman, who smiled at them all so beatifically she looked like an angel. Her hair was a color that could only belong to Ichigo’s mom.

The girls had staked out either end of the couch, so Renji lowered himself onto the floor. Since Karin glared at him menacingly, Renji sat on the side closest to Yuzu, his back against the armrest.

Ichigo’s house was surprisingly Western. Soft carpeting covered the floor Renji sat on. All the chairs were up off the floor, and the TV dominated the far wall. There were bookshelves full of books and knick knacks. It was strange, but very… comfortable, well-lived-in.

“Where are you even from?” Karin asked Renji with a suspicious sneer.

“Hiroshima,” Renji and Ichigo said in unison. 

It was the lie Urahara had told them to tell. For some reason once Renji said it, he always got the reaction Karin was giving him now: a slight widening of the eyes and then a nod, as if that explained everything. Often, afterwards, people stopped meeting his eye, acted nervous if he ever seemed the slightest bit angry, and never, ever asked him about his tattoos.

Some day Renji was going to have to find out what the deal was with Hiroshima.

Ichigo tossed Renji a bag of the iwashi senbei and sat down on the floor. Apparently, everyone was saving the middle seat for Isshin. Ichigo leaned his head back, bonking his sister’s knee, and said, “Hey, turn on the TV. Renji’s never seen ‘Godzilla.’ We don’t want to miss anything.”

“How can you have never seen Godzilla?” Karin wanted to know, pointing the remote at the TV.

Renji shrugged, “Been busy.”

Isshin came in then with a bowl of fruit-flavored popcorn. He’d also opened Renji’s present and handed out packages of kola cream-filled cookies. Ichigo looked sort of disappointed, “No candy from the shōten?”

“What? You wanted something from Urahara’s? Half that stuff has a mind of its own. What if I brought something that was alive?” Renji complained. “Anyway, I thought I should buy something myself, you know, not steal from my landlord. That didn’t seem cool.”

“Yeah, it’s always better to steal from somewhere else,” Karin said.

“My point exactly,” Renji said. “You don’t boost stuff off your neighbors. That’s bad business.”

Renji realized everyone was looking at him, as Karin explained, “I was being sarcastic.”

“Oh.” Renji’s ears reddened. “I knew that.”

Luckily, a commercial came on that distracted everyone. Unfortunately, it was one for the Don Kanonji show featuring the sentō. The voice-over informed them that Don Kononji would be investigating the ‘most perverted poltergeists ever!’ 

Isshin said, “Oooh, Daddy like!” which earned him a pounding from the girls on either side of him. 

Then commercial followed-up with a clip from an interview with the ‘eye witness,’ who ogled the camera and said, “The thing I remember the most? So many stripes on naked skin! Like a tiger! And hair the color of spilled blood!”

While everyone else in his family was making the ridiculous hand gesture and saying ‘Bru-ha-ha-ha-ha” along with the host, Ichigo gave Renji very curious wide eyes.

Renji just shook his head vigorously and tried not to blush any deeper.

Finally, the movie was about to start, and Isshin got up and turn all the lights low, “To be like a real movie theatre!” he announced.

Watching Ichigo’s family snuggling in, trading insults and jokes, Renji thought about families and fate and blood. He no longer remembered what it was like to be born into a family--to inherit a father’s eyes, or mother’s hair. Renji must’ve had a father once. Did they get along? Instinct instantly replied, ‘No.’ But, what about a mom? He’d have had one of those, too, since that was how things worked. What was she like? Was it her eyes he had? Her hair? What about siblings? Had anyone called him onii-chan? Or did he have a big brother looking out for him?

Then again, maybe Renji hadn’t had any of that. Maybe he’d just risen up out of the primordial ooze with blood on his face and fight in his soul.

 _No_ , hissed Zabimaru. _That was us_.

_Ain’t we one and the same?_

_Hmmm_ , murmured the baboon king, its voice like a low rumbling of distant thunder. _Then perhaps you did._

#

Byakuya was having a bad day. 

The rain had continued all night. Normally, he slept well to the sound of distant thunder, but Byakuya’d stayed up far too late finishing the entire yaoi series, all forty-some volumes. Then the sexual frustration had him tossing and turning until he finally took matters into his own hands.

Thus, morning had come far too early. The soak in the sentō managed to bring back even more delectable images for Byakuya’s already fevered brain, and all he wanted to do was go back to bed and dream of Renji.

Unfortunately, he had to have on his best company manners at breakfast. Not only did he have to entertain Rukia’s friend, but he also had to attempt to mitigate the silent, yet constant hostility that flowed from aunt Masama to Rukia. 

They all stood up when Byakuya came in. He’d taken the time to dress in his uniform and put on the kenseikan. The haori fluttered behind him as he made his way to the low table.

Everyone else was dressed as well. Rukia in her uniform and Orihime in what Byakuya had to assume was a borrowed yukata of a cheery gold and brown pattern that managed to compliment her orange-gold hair nicely. Aunt Masama, of course, wore several layers of blue and green, the outermost kimono had the Kuchiki crest on sleeves and back in silver threads.

Due to the large number of guests, the under-butler had chosen to serve them in the formal sitting room. The fusuma panel had been rolled back and the outer door slid aside so that they had a view of the main courtyard’s garden. Byakuya would have asked it to be shut for the chill, but there was something beautiful in the way that the autumn colors reflected in the gray overcast light. Even the green leaves seemed to have a silvery sheen in the drizzle.

After he settled into place at the head of the table, Byakuya said the customary words over the food. He started to reach for the tea only to be foiled by the joint hands of Rukia and Masama. Masama glared at Rukia, but she was forced to concede. Rukia was the junior member of the family; it was her duty to pour the tea.

Byakuya pretended not to notice that the battle had already started. Ah, how he missed breakfast with Renji already. At least with all this formality, he would have his tea first.

Taking a steadying sip, Byakuya turned to Orihime, “Good morning, Ms. Inoue,” he said. “I trust Rukia has already introduced you to our esteemed lady aunt, Masama Kuchiki?”

“Um, yes,” she said, her cheery smile looking a little forced. 

Had Masama already been rude to Rukia?

The thought irritated him, so Byakuya turned to Masama. “Have your staff finished moving you out of my mother’s suites?”

Rukia stifled a little gasp. She, at least, understood how sacrosanct those rooms should be.

Masama’s eyes were on her lap and her expression a perfect Kuchiki mask. “Yes, Byakuya-sama. Have you thought more about what we discussed last night?”

“I have,” he conceded. “Now that I understand your concerns more fully, I will be discussing the matter with Captain Kurotsuchi. Special provisions may need to be made. There are mitigating circumstances in Renji’s case.”

“Like what?” Masama asked, placing a bit of fish on Byakuya’s plate.

“He has achieved bankai,” Byakuya said simply. He helped himself to some of the steamed rice and hakusai no sokusekizuke, salt-pickled cabbage. “The purification rite disrupts the soul bond connection. I may be willing to sacrifice some of his strength for selfish reasons, but never his life.”

“Even at the cost of your own?” Masama asked, her eyes coming up.

“Even at the cost of my own,” Byakuya agreed firmly. “Besides, from what I understand, this problem that you’re so concerned about is merely a slow leeching of my reiatsu. I have much to spare, and, as you can see, currently, it is not me who is on the front lines of the battlefield, but Renji.”

Aunt Masama made a little ‘harumping’ noise, and fell silent. Byakuya noticed that Rukia and Orihime watched this exchange with curious eyes. 

They should talk of less… complicated things. Turning to Rukia, Byakuya asked, “Will you and Ms. Inoue be training here or at the Thirteenth?”

“Oh,” Rukia blushed, as though afraid to offend, “Well, Captain Ukitake offered that back stretch of the Division, you know, where Kaien—er, the lieutenant and I used to train?”

“Ah, yes,” Byakuya said, remembering his own training there. “The old quarry. That’s especially useful when practicing—“ he glanced at Orihime, “—kidō.”

Rukia nodded happily. “Yes, and we don’t want to be a distraction for you, nii-sama.”

He wanted to say he’d be happy for the company, but he could understand not wanting to be under the scrutiny of Auntie Massey. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Rukia. I’m sure your captain has other duties for you, as well. You should report in as soon as possible. You must be very anxious to return to your division after so much time away.”

He’d said the last part thinking of Renji. It was such a shame Renji was exiled this way, when so many bridges needed rebuilding after all the unpleasantness over Rukia’s near-execution and the betrayals that followed. The division needed their lieutenant. However, given the bloodiness of Renji’s jailbreak, perhaps some time and distance would help, as well.

“I… am, I suppose,” Rukia said. However, she looked sad, or perhaps guilty for having caused so much bother. 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Byakuya said, despite the fact that he knew full well Rukia had, in fact, committed a crime by transferring her powers to Ichigo Kurosaki. At this point, however, the number of mistakes people had made during that whole fiasco seemed minor in comparison to the greater evil. “Aizen played us all. Possibly from the very start.”

“I’m looking forward to kicking his butt,” Orihime announced, and then, with a look at Aunt Masama, covered her mouth.

But Rukia laughed brightly and said, “Me, too!”

Byakuya nodded, “Myself, as well.”

Aunt Masama sniffed but tipped her tea cup to all of them. “I shall do my part to pray for this former captain’s downfall.”

Byakuya gave her a sincere nod. “That would be very welcome, Aunt Masama. I should be grateful if you would.”

She gave him an indulgent smile, “Anything for my late brother’s only son.”

Well. A point for Masama--she’d managed to very consciously snub Rukia and subtly chastise Byakuya’s resistance to the rite with talk of his father’s death. At least she was being somewhat pleasant on the surface. 

Now they just had to come up with enough small talk to finish this meal without any actual bloodshed…

#

Breakfast finished peacefully enough and Byakuya had gotten through much of the afternoon without further incident. He should have known the quiet wouldn’t last, however. 

A sharp rap at his office door interrupted his review of the Fourth Seat’s attempt at a requisition order. He’d already been irritated by the state of the Division’s paperwork and so he snapped, “What is it?”

Whoever it was, impertinently _stood_ just beyond the rice paper as he announced in a scratchy voice, “I got a… person at the gate who insists he has ‘business’ with you, Taicho. No offense to you and all, but seems a bit early in the day for that sort of thing, if you know what I’m saying?”

He most certainly did not. What was being implied here? And what was with this dripping smugness? Who was this irritating man at his door? 

Byakuya flashed to the door and pushed it open firmly. The smirking face of their Seventh Seat—Kinjo, was it?—greeted him. The Seventh Seat had the look of a man who’d brawled a lot in his youth… and possibly still did. His nose was bent from having been broken and a scar neatly sliced one eyebrow in half. He wore his dark hair short, but shaggy, and he was in desperate need of a shave. “What’s the meaning of this, Seventh Seat?”

At least faced with his captain, the soldier had the sense to bow and say, “Many apologies for disturbing you, sir, but, as I said, your…” his eyes, a deep chestnut brown, glanced up, and sparkled with mockery, “…young man is at the gate with his entourage. He seems pretty adamant that you have a business relationship.”

Entourage? Was Byakuya expecting a visit from some minor noble? No, the under-butler would have informed him, and, normally, Byakuya was careful to always deal with family business at the estate, after his duties were discharged with the division.

Straightening from his deep bow, the Seventh Seat finally gave Byakuya the information he’d needed from the start, “His name is Daisuke, I think he said.”

Ah, of course, the kagema from the teahouse. No wonder the Seventh Seat was acting so despicably. He was an uncouth idiot and had clearly made all sort of erroneous assumptions.

And Renji thought this man might be good for Byakuya to work with?

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from Daisuke,” Byakuya said without a trace of the shame that the Seventh Seat clearly had hoped for. “But he must have important information, if he’s made the trip from the Rukongai. You must show him in immediately.”

The Seventh looked a little shocked at Byakuya’s lack of reaction, but he said, “Yes, sir.”

“Oh and, Kinjo? Be sure to have Aio bring us tea.”

Just as Byakuya had hoped, the Seventh Seat looked annoyed to have to run a servant’s errand. Byakuya would make sure the Seventh Seat was plagued by many such annoyances for the rest of the day. Perhaps several double-shifts were in order. Byakuya’d be sure to arrange it with the Fourth Seat.

In a matter of moments, Daisuke was shown in. Kinjo was at least smart enough to insist that the kagema’s bodyguards wait outside the door. Byakuya had made space for the two of them to talk in the corner of his office where he and Renji often took lunch or dinner. Aio had brought a tray quickly and a promise to return as fast as possible with some kind of treat from Miki’s kitchen at the estate. 

Daisuke, however, instantly dropped to his knees just inside the door and supplicated himself in the deepest apology, “I’m incredibly sorry to disturb you at your work, my lord. I sent a missive but I was told you were away for the weekend. If this wasn’t so important I swear would never have been so indiscreet!”

Poor thing, he was trembling in fear. “I have no doubt,” Byakuya said. “Get up. Come, have some tea.”

Raising his head, Daisuke blinked in surprise. He really was a handsome youth—so very boyish with those bright eyes and blonde hair. Not a very typical kagema, though, despite his clothing and youngish face. He wore a traditional, multi-layered kimono, which despite the more subdued greens and amber colors, was a touch girlish for his lanky, leggy frame that was clearly filling out into a man’s body. 

Despite his reputed skill, he wouldn’t be in service much longer. Most preferred boys to men.

Byakuya indicated where Daisuke should settle himself. Once he did, Byakuya joined him on the other side of the table. Picking up the tea pot, Daisuke seemed to relax in this setting. He automatically poured Byakuya’s tea, leaving his own empty until Byakuya said: “Join me.”

Daisuke seemed a little surprised by this request, too, but he did as instructed. And, despite the burning news that had no doubt precipitated a pre-dawn journey, Daisuke waited patiently with his hands on his knees and his head down.

“Tell me what’s brought you all this way with such urgency,” Byakuya said.

His eyes glanced up. “I have a lover, a bandit, who carries a zanpakutō and a deep grudge against you.”

A zanpakutō? Byakuya felt his blood starting to boil at the thought: “A rogue from the Sixth?

“I’m afraid I don’t know that for certain, my lord,” Daisuke bowed his head again. “I’ve only seen this person twice. The first time was… well, it was meant to be a trick on me, since I’m new to the Western District’s teahouse and seen as favored by you.” He glanced up and gave a crooked smile, “Well, trick’s on them, since now he prefers me over all the others. They had no idea that I could more than handle the ruffian, having served so long just outside of the Eleventh.”

“Ah, I see,” Byakuya said, and he could—far too well. 

Had Byakuya known that Daisuke’s skill set involved rough trade? He supposed he should have, given the location of the teahouse Daisuke had come from… but… well…. Byakuya suddenly wished he could un-know it. Given his interests and the fact that Renji was far away, possibly for a long time, this was… upsetting. 

Byakuya sipped his tea and tried to focus on the important matters. “Surely, there is more information than that for you to come here so quickly.”

“Yes, my lord. My bandit lover told me he would be gone for a while,” Daisuke continued. “I suspect there may be another raid, possibly on your supply train. I can’t be sure, but, you see, he told me he’d bring back a gift. He said he gets sick of the hot water and the pretending to serve that happens in the Rukongai, so he promised me the best tea--tea fit for a prince…” Daisuke picked up his tea cup and stared into it before saying, “Just like this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my loyal friend, Josey (cetsus), for her support and cheerleading. 
> 
> Also, after much debating, I decided it would be hilarious if Renji made the assumption that everyone already knew the secret of Isshin's past and that he was the one who was the idiot for not getting it until now. I'm hoping for a future scene where Renji casually mentions it and there is much freakage.... :-)
> 
> In case you were wondering, Hiroshima is supposed to be where all the yakuza gangsters come from.


End file.
